Everything You Don't
by Small-Wonders
Summary: You're not sure why you go to CNRI, because you broke up with Laurel. Laurel slept with Oliver. You think part of it must be because Laurel is still Laurel, but it's probably really because you're still you, and if this is the end of the world then you'll be damned if you spend your last moments without her. / Some sort of sequel to Everything You Wanted.


You're not sure why you go to CNRI, because you broke up with Laurel. Laurel slept with Oliver. You think part of it must be because Laurel is stillLaurel, but it's probably really because you're still you, and if this is the end of the world then you'll be damned if you spend your last moments without her.

The ground is trembling beneath your feet, and the lights in the building are flickering, but you don't hesitate because Laurel is in there. You find her pinned beneath a slab of concrete with the building falling down around her.

"Tommy." She says your name with tears in her eyes and a sob in her throat. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured that you might come back to CNRI."

"You came here for me?"

Of course you did. You would walk barefoot across the arctic for her. "I love you."

The cement digs into your hands and it hurts. Your palms are bleeding. You don't care because Laurel is worth every drop of blood in your body. Along with all your breath and all your tears.

(Laurel who slept with Oliver, Laurel who you can't help but love even if you don't like her very much right now.)

Oliver could save-

You stop that train of thought before it even starts because Oliver isn't here and you are. Finally, you manage to wrench the concrete off of her body and set it aside. Carefully, you pick her up. The building is falling to pieces, and you need to get out before it buries you both alive.

You make it out the front door just as the building begins to fully collapse behind you. The street is filled with smoke and screaming. Tremors shake the earth again, and you fall to your knees, cradling Laurel on your lap. Suddenly, her father is beside you, and you're vaguely aware of him yelling for an ambulance.

Her blood is on your hands, and her breathing is labored.

When you see the rebar threaded through her ribs, you feel your heart clench in your chest. No wonder she can't breathe.

"Sorry," she whispers faintly, "So, so sorry."

"Hey," you say, feeling like somebody tore your heart out of your chest, leaving nothing but an aching hole. "You've got nothing to apologize for, okay?"

And that's when you realize: You don't get to save her. You're not the hero.

You never were.

* * *

The hospital is chaotic. People are everywhere. The rooms are filled with shouts and screams.

You're sitting with Thea in the waiting room at the hospital when Oliver comes in, a pretty blonde whose name you should know trailing behind him. There's a gash on her forehead and dried blood on the side of her face. Oliver doesn't look much better.

You want to be angry with him, but you find that you just can't be. It takes energy that you don't have right now.

"She's still in surgery," you say, and Oliver nods. You can't fault him for caring. Not about Laurel.

You sit mutely as Oliver collapses into the chair on one side of you; the blonde falls into place across from him. She leans forward and puts a hand on his knee. You're a little taken aback by the intimacy of the gesture, especially considering that you've never met this girl. At least you don't think you remember meeting her.

"Oliver, you should really have a doctor look at you," the blonde says quietly.

"I'm fine, Felicity," he says, a little gruffly. You see him place his hand on top of hers and squeeze it lightly.

"You stabbed yourself through your shoulder with an arrow." She lowers her voice, but you hear her anyway. It reminds you all over again that your father is dead and that Oliver killed him.

There's no time to think about your new status as an orphan, however, because you see Detective Lance walking towards you.

You don't have to ask him how she is. His face tells you all that you need to know.

Thea jumps up from the space beside you. "No," she says quietly, and out of the corner of your eye you see Oliver start to stand, bracing himself to catch her if he has to, but you're on your feet first. Thea turns to you, and you take her in your arms easily. She buries her face in your shirt and sobs.

You're numb, but she's not. It's like by holding Thea, all the grief has been sucked right out of you, dragged out of the pit of your stomach. All that's left in your bones is numbness.

Your father's dead; Laurel's dead; the city is broken.

And you're sure you just broke right along with it.

* * *

On the morning of Laurel's funeral, Thea shows up at your apartment the morning of the funeral with coffee, a blueberry muffin, and aspirin. You try to explain that you're really not hung over, but she only gives you a frown and hands you the coffee.

You try not to think about how you brought her coffee the morning of Oliver's funeral.

"Where's Oliver?" you ask. The coffee is extremely strong, but that's probably a good thing.

"He said he'll meet us there." She hands you the muffin.

You set it aside. "How are you holding up?"

She shrugs sadly, but you notice her bloodshot eyes and her smudged makeup. You get it. You can't cry all the time, but it hurts all the time.

You hug her then, tears pricking at your eyes because by now the numbness is gone, but somehow it hurts a little less when there's someone to hurt with.

After a second, Thea steps away, wiping at her eyes with her fingers. "I'm going to go find you a better tie," she says.

"What's wrong with my tie?" you yell after her, but she either doesn't hear or doesn't want to tell you.

* * *

The funeral sucks about as much as funerals like to suck, but you manage to stay sober through all of it. (There's a bottle of Scotch at home with your name on it, but the last thing Laurel would have wanted was you completely wasted at her funeral.)

Oliver is there, and he's with Felicity, which surprises you. You know very little about her besides the fact that she's Oliver's friend, he's had her help around Verdant once or twice, she normally works in the IT department at Queen Consolidated, and she knows Oliver's secret. It's the last part of that list that you can't quite wrap your head around.

And it always comes back to that, doesn't it? Oliver's secret. His one man war on the scum of Starling. You think about how he tried to stop your father, how he tried to stop the earthquake machine from decimating the Glades.

You think about the fact that, really, Oliver is the only one who could have stopped your dad. (He just didn't stop him soon enough and Laurel paid the price. You should forgive him for that; you don't want to.)

"It should have been me," Oliver says as he sits in a chair next to you. You don't know what he means. It should have been him, what? Saving Laurel? Pulling her out of that building? It should have been him instead of Laurel?

"I got my second chance at life," Oliver says softly, "I got many of them. And I didn't deserve the first one."

"Fuck that," you say. Because seriously, this is not about him. "It's not a game. She didn't die because the universe let you live. Life doesn't balance like that, Oliver. She died because my father was insane, she died because he couldn't hold all the rage and pain he felt inside, because he let it fester and grow and destroy him from the inside out. And then he loosed it on the world because if he was going to be dragged into hell he was going to drag everybody else down with him. And he might have claimed to be serving the greater good, but I know how he put together his stock portfolio, Oliver. I know how much money he was going to make off of the death and destruction. He was in it for the profit."

You take a long drink of Oliver's whiskey then, because it'll dull everything for a bit. You are sorry, Laurel. "So don't fucking tell me that Laurel's death was on you. That's giving yourself too damn much of the credit."

And since that sounds too much like forgiveness to your ears, you decide it's time to go home.

* * *

Oliver is gone for the entire summer, and you remind yourself over and over again that you don't care.

You get to watch Thea bloom into this young woman of increasing brains and beauty. You barely help her with Verdant, but you make sure she knows that you're around if she needs you. And since Oliver is "traveling around Europe" or whatever stupid lie he's come up with this time, she comes to you often. She's not looking for advice so much as she's looking for reassurance, and that's something you're happy to give.

* * *

After the third time Thea refuses to speak with her mother, you pluck up your courage and go to see Moira Queen.

The smile she gives you is pained, but it's there. For a second you hate everything about your father. You hate him for everything he's done, for all the pain he's caused and all the pain he's still causing.

"Hi, Tommy," Moira says, and she reaches out a hand to you. You take it, because all the words you want to say are caught in your throat. "I'm sorry about your father."

"He got what he deserved."

"But he was still your father, and you still lost him." Everything about Moira is comforting, soothing. You haven't had a mother for years, and you miss it more than anything, but Moira is as close as the universe has come to providing you with another.

She's gracious though, and changes the subject. "Tommy, have you heard from Oliver?"

Sadly, you shake your head. You haven't. You don't think Moira really expects you to have heard from him.

"He says he's in Europe. Thea gets postcards sometimes."

"Is he in Eurpoe?" Moira asks.

You shake your head. You think she's going to ask where he is. She doesn't. You wish you weren't so relieved. You wish you didn't know where Felicity Smoak and John Diggle have chartered a plane. You wish Laurel's death didn't drive Oliver back to the place he planned on dying. You know there's nothing you can do about it.

You really want John and Felicity to bring him back.

* * *

When Oliver comes back, you know that it's for Queen Consolidated and for the trial, but a part of you wonders if he'll reach out, or if the two of you have damaged your friendship beyond repair. (Deep down, you hope that isn't the case. Oliver is a lot of things, but all of those come second to the fact that he's the closest thing to a brother you've ever had.)

It takes him a few days, but eventually Oliver does come around, and you try not to feel too relieved. He's with the blonde, Felicity, but she stays back while the two of you talk. You wonder why she's with Oliver at all.

"I need to ask you a favor," Oliver says. "Queen Consolidated is my father's legacy, and if I don't do something, I'm going to lose it."

And as much as you swear that you hate him now, for what he is, for what he's become, you find that you can't refuse him.

* * *

You've heard the name Isabel Rochev before. Your father's mentioned it a bunch of times. She's smart, savvy. She'll make a hell of a business partner so long as Oliver has the necessary leverage to keep her in check.

"What if I found someone to invest new equity capitol?" Oliver is asking as Felicity opens the door for you and you step into the conference room.

"A white knight?" Isabel is saying, "Your last name is now associated with mass murder, even you don't have that good a friend."

That's your cue if ever you've heard one. "Says who?"

Isabel stands, turns. Her mouth opens slightly, but that's the only outward sign of her surprise. "Mr. Merlyn. You both understand that the public will not like this. The sons of the murderers who destroyed the Glades banding together."

"We've always made a good team," you say.

The movement Isabel's lips make is almost a sneer, and you don't blame her for not wanting to get into bed with the two of you. As far as she's concerned, this is by far a threesome from hell.

But she stalks away, and Oliver shakes your hand and thanks you, and maybe, just maybe, you can see the two of you being friends again. Someday.

* * *

Thea's parentage comes out during the trial.

More accurately, Moria's affair with your dad comes out during the trial, but you put the dates together to figure out what Oliver and Thea haven't.

You're not sure how to get the answer to the question burning in your mouth without asking Moira directly, so once Moira's been, released that's exactly what you do. As direct and succinct as possible, you ask: "Is Thea Robert's daughter?"

And Moira sighs deeply, sadly, bows her head, and takes a moment to gather herself together. It doesn't matter, because by the time she's met your eyes again, you know what the answer is going to be.

"No."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. "So then she's - "

"Yes, Thea is your sister, but, Thomas - " she never calls you Thomas, no one ever calls you Thomas. You were born Tommy and Tommy you stayed. "Thomas, you can never tell her. She was Robert's daughter, hearing anything different would destroy her."

"I think she's stronger than you're giving her credit for," you say, "She deserves to know."

"Tommy, don't."

You don't want to do what you do next, but you know that you have to do what you do next. "Either you tell her, Mrs. Queen, or I will."

* * *

Eventually, Thea finds you. You force yourself to wait for her to make the first move. You've had more time to process, she hasn't.

Still, she when shows up at your apartment with half a dozen doughnuts and a bottle of red wine that you're sure she shouldn't be in possession of, you let her inside.

"So," she says bluntly, "I guess you're my half-brother."

As she sets the doughnuts on your kitchen counter, you take the wine from her before she suggests opening it. "Let's drop the 'half', and just stay with brother."

The smile she gives you at that is brilliant. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

"I had a crush on you," she says flatly, and you laugh.

"I asked Oliver if he'd noticed how hot you'd gotten," you say.

She leans over and bumps her shoulder against yours. "We must be really screwed up. Freud would have a field day with the both of us."

"Have you told Oliver yet?" It's a question you've been wanting to ask since she showed up.

Thea shakes her head. "I don't know how to tell him, but I suppose I will have to eventually."

"I can," you say, following it up quickly with, "If you'd like?"

She gives you a smile that is so classic Thea your heart skips a beat. "Maybe we should do it together."

You like the sound of that, and you say so. After a few minutes, Thea's face seems to fall a bit, and she says bitterly, "So I guess both of my parents are mass murderers."

"Hey," you say, placing your hand on her shoulder comfortingly, "I don't know that I've sufficiently dealt with the reality that my dad was a mass murderer who was, in all likelihood insane, but your mother - Moira - I believe her when she says she did everything she did to protect you and Oliver."

Thea's smile is still tinged in sadness, so you wrap your arms around her. "I know it sucks."

"We should break out the doughnuts," she mutters against your shoulder, and you quite find that you agree.

* * *

"So," Oliver says evenly. "If we have the same sister, does this mean we're brothers?"

"Pretty sure you'd both have to share a parent for that to happen," Thea says, "So unless you're Merlyn's bastard too, I'm pretty sure the two of you aren't actually blood related."

You and Oliver grin at each other. "Oh well," you say, "we still have the same sister, so I guess that means I get to help scare away all the boyfriends and defend your honor and stuff."

"You did all that anyway," Thea says.

You note the flash of surprise on Oliver's face. You haven't told him about the boys you scared off after he 'drowned'. You haven't told him about taking Thea out to breakfast on her birthday, or giving her the occasional ride to school. You haven't talked about bringing her doughnuts after one of her break-ups or about taking her to see a stupid romantic comedy her then-boyfriend refused to see.

You haven't told him that you were her brother in every way that mattered all along; you always assumed he knew, and maybe he did.

Thea loops her arms around both you and Oliver, grinning up at the two of you. "You know, if the half-brother didn't also come with a mass murdering father, this would almost feel like Christmas."

You disagree; having Thea as a sister does feel like Christmas.

* * *

A week later, you return to your apartment late at night to find the one person you never expected to see again standing in the middle of your living room.

"Hello, Tommy," Malcolm - he is not your father nor will he ever be again - says. He's alive, and the knowledge is a knife twisting in your gut, ripping out your insides and spilling them all over the floor.

"How?" is the first word that manages to make its way out of your mouth. The unfair cruelty of it all threatens to suffocate you. Why should he still get to breathe? Why, when Laurel is gone and five hundred and three people died because of him?

"What do you want?" You don't know how your voice stays so even.

"I want you to come with me."

"You're out of your damn mind if you think that I am going anywhere with you."

"Son-"

"I am not," you say, "your son. You're dead to me."

"Would you like others to be dead to you as well, Tommy?" Malcolm says. "Because I can make that happen. You've only recently discovered the truth about Thea, would you really like me to take her away from you?"

"You're the reason Laurel's dead."

"I'm the reason they're all dead, but that doesn't matter. I'm not asking you to like me, Tommy, just to come with me, and I assure you, I can make Thea's life a living hell if you give me reason to. I'm not above it. You know how it feels to have a mother ripped away from you at such a young age. I'm sure you don't want that for her too."

And maybe you would be a wretched friend if you risk everyone's well being by staying, but maybe you'd be even more wretched for going. You're not sure. You think about how much you wanted to hate Oliver for running off after Laurel died. You think about how hard it was to forgive him when he got back.

You think about how you forgave him even after all of that.

And then you grab your coat and follow Merlyn outside to his waiting car.

* * *

end.


End file.
